


Missing Halves

by Yenenda



Category: Naruto
Genre: Dimension Travel, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Past Major Character Death (because of mentioned alternate realities), Philosophical Pondering about alternate universe selves and identity, Self-Doubt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:01:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28562451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yenenda/pseuds/Yenenda
Summary: Tobirama knows that Madara hates him, and always would, and so Tobirama intends to keep the fact that he loves him a secret forever.But things change after he activates an unknown seal and finds himself in a world that's similar but very different from his own.
Relationships: Senju Tobirama/Uchiha Madara
Comments: 26
Kudos: 377





	1. Mistake

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KeanBlade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeanBlade/gifts).
  * Inspired by [truly know](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19813555) by [KeanBlade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeanBlade/pseuds/KeanBlade). 
  * Inspired by [Wither on the Bough](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21078659) by [KeanBlade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeanBlade/pseuds/KeanBlade). 



> I really like dimension travel fic, and I was very inspired, so this was born.
> 
> This is VERY heavily influenced by KeanBlade's fics and characterizations, and the other dimension is almost entirely based off of their Color in Red au, where Izuna lives, but Tobirama dies instead, and Madara falls in love with him after his death from the pieces he left behind. There are some changes, but those are mostly because my writing got away from me.

It was supposed to be a simple mission, but everything that could have gone wrong, had. A simple courier mission had turned into an ambush, and if he weren't so skilled a sensor, he wouldn't have escaped the original ambush. Even then, his foes had gotten... embarrassingly close. A skilled group of shinobi, they had managed to hide themselves and their chakra until it was almost too late. For every enemy he killed, three more struck, and even without being outnumbered, each kill would have been a challenge. Ultimately, it was flee, or be overwhelmed.

He had underestimated his opponents, and stretched himself too thin regardless. Too many missions with too few hours of sleep between them. At peak health, at full strength, he could have taken on an army. But these shinobi clearly knew about him, had studied him, and had planned specifically with him in mind. They would have been a challenge, even if he wasn't running on fumes.

As far as mistakes went, he'd made worse, even if this one might well end in his death. Tobirama had made many in his life, and each of those mistakes had come with a cost. If he was lucky, that cost was something he was willing to pay; his health, his peace of mind, his happiness. But all too often, luck was not something Tobirama was graced with, and the cost was often far, far too high. His own death would have been acceptable... the loss of those he loved was not. Cursed being that he was, even his love was punishment to those around him. Kawarama and Itama were losses that, even years later, sometimes weighed on him so heavily he could barely breathe around the grief.

Madara, too. It was a secret he would carry to the grave, but Tobirama had been in love with him ever since he was a child. It had started while they were still at war, though Tobirama was too much a shinobi to let it get in the way of his duty to the Senju. But even if the Uchiha he loved still lived, Tobirama had lost him the day he'd put his sword through Izuna, the day he had put duty and responsibility to his own clan first. Not that he had ever truly had Madara to start with, but the indifference of before was like day and night when compared to the intense, directed hatred that now filled the Uchiha patriatch after his brother's death, intense enough to tear Tobirama to shreds. 

As for how he'd fallen in love with a man that he had never actually met beyond the battlefield... well. Tobirama was fairly certain no one actually realized the full extent of his sensory abilities, except perhaps his brother and his cousin Touka. Even as a fairly young child, he could feel people's chakra for miles around, more so when he concentrated. It only strengthened as he aged, to the point where his senses could just about reach the edges of the Land of Fire. Since chakra reflected one's soul, if he felt someone, he could figure out more or less what kind of person they were. What this meant was, he could feel even the Uchihas' chakra, and he had a fairly good idea of who they were, in a way most of the Senju didn't. The stronger the chakra, the stronger he could understand the reflection of their soul.

Hashirama's chakra felt optimistic, constantly growing like a plant in a too small pot whose roots were about to break free, and intense, sometimes too intense. Touka's was dangerous and violent, dark and flowing like blood, but the violence was unshakingly protective and loyal at its root, just as blood fueled life, and its loss brought death. Izuna's had felt sharp, and dangerously prideful, with a angry edge that was both jarring and distrustful, like static that built to a shock.

Madara's...

When he was much younger, during times when Tobirama had been overwhelmed, hurt, or unhappy, his senses would reach out for Madara's chakra, as warm and comforting as a blazing hearth in the middle of winter. Like that fire, his chakra was both heat to keep away the chill, and light to keep away the encroaching darkness. Madara's chakra spoke of a man who was strong, passionate, protective—not peaceful, but exceptionally loving to those he cared about, and Tobirama had quietly, secretly, fallen in love with him for it.

Even as enemies, even if Madara didn't know him beyond his presence on the battlefield, his chakra was soothing. But after Izuna's death, it had changed completely. The once warm fire of Madara's chakra had slowly become a cruel inferno, agony to touch. (Not that it kept Tobirama away entirely. The pain was no less than he deserved, after all. He had inflicted the pain first, with Izuna's death.)

He wondered, sometimes, what would have happened if he'd been a little faster. Not with his blade; he had been more than quick enough with his lethal strike. No, what would have happened if he had been faster afterwards, when he had realized just how overwhelming a mistake he had made. For a man known for his speed, he had been too slow in trying to fix it. He had just started forward, ideas of healing Izuna's wound—the wound Tobirama had himself inflicted—starting to form in his head... but Madara had gotten there first. After that, there was no chance in getting any closer, even with the intention to heal.

Not long after, Tobirama had felt, with his chakra sense stretched out from the Senju compound all the way to the Uchiha's, the exact moment when Izuna's chakra faded away with death. 

Even so, and despite what Tobirama had done, eventually Hashirama got his wish, and the village they had dreamed of. But Madara's hatred burned, Izuna's loss never forgotten and impossible to forgive.

Thoughts of the past did little to help him in the present, however. He should know better than to get distracted from the already wrecked mission; the outcome of which, as the seconds passed, looked more and more grim.

The trees blurred past him as he ran, leaving speckles of blood from his various injuries, the worst of it the slice in his left leg, slowing him down. Nothing that, if he managed to escape, would do him in... but if he had to fight, would hinder him enough to be deadly. And a fight was beginning to look inevitable. His senses told him that he was steadily being surrounded, like a fox, trapped and herded by a hunter's hounds. He was fast, but not fast enough. And in this scenario, Hiraishin would do him no good. He was too far from the village, he had no extra seals, and even if he could manage a jump, it wouldn't be enough. His options were low, his chances were even lower.

But perhaps... the thought of his Hiraishin brought to mind something else. As he ran, a hand fell to a scroll in one of his side pouches. The scroll carried a complicated seal, one that even Tobirama hadn't yet deciphered. 

The seal was a gift from Mito, an old Uzumaki relic. Its use had been long forgotten, even by the seal masters of the Uzumaki. According to Mito, when she had found it, some of the parts of the seal had reminded her of Tobirama's Hiraishin, and so she thought he might be able to figure it out. Once he had seen it, he had agreed, though it was far more complicated than any seal he had ever used.

He supposed that it was a gift intended to be some kind of peace offering from her and Hashirama, though it was rather too late. Hashirama meant well, but for him, the village took priority. Tobirama understood it, and did not blame him for it, but that did nothing to gap the distance between them. No matter. Tobirama was a loyal shinobi of Konoha, a weapon to use against the enemies of the village. That was all he needed to be.

Or perhaps the gift was simply an attempt by Mito to draw him back from the icy distance he had fallen to. Just as Madara had burned ever agonizingly hotter, so had Tobirama slowly embraced the ice and the bitter, biting cold. The Ghost of the Senju embodied the nickname more and more every day, gradually becoming more like an intangible shade, distant and frozen. In the end, it hardly mattered what the reason was anymore.

Tobirama had intended to study the seal when he had some time to rest on his mission, which was why he had brought it with him. He certainly had never intended to use it. Using an unknown seal was the height of insanity, of course, and the result could even be worse than any fate an enemy shinobi could bring him. Or it might do nothing at all, and be pointless beyond draining his already low chakra. But... between a certain death at the hands of his pursuers, and the uncertain fate of this seal, he knew what he would pick. Beyond his duty, there was little that tied him to the world. But perhaps some spark of hope, deep down within him, still burned.

Tobirama threw one last check out towards the shinobi; they were almost on him now. With a deep breath, he pushed everything he had left into the seal, and he felt the darkness encroach at the edges of his vision as the beginnings of chakra deprivation began to overwhelm him. Just as he was beginning to believe he'd wasted even the most slim chance he had, the seal activated beneath his hands. There was a bright flash of light, a thundering sound, and a feeling both like Hiraishin, and simultaneously nothing like it at all. Then, the darkness took him completely.

* * *

What Tobirama didn't know was that the seal was powered, above all, by intent. By one's deepest desires.

If you asked Tobirama what his greatest desire was, at the moment he activated the seal, he would tell you that it was to get to safety, so he could return to the village and continue his duty as a shinobi, to protect and serve his village, his family, his hokage.

However, if you forced him, somehow, to tell the truth, he would say his greatest desire was that he wished for some way to fix everything. To make up for his mistakes. Everything stemmed from his actions, all the misery and death, and he wished he could change it, take it all back, even if at his own expense. He would probably even believe that it was his strongest desire, himself. It was certainly a strong wish. 

(But deep down, buried within his heart, his most hidden, strongest, and perhaps most selfish wish was the same as it had always been, and it had little to do with the attack, or the seal itself. 

He wished that Madara could truly see him, see beneath the ice he had shielded himself with, and love him for what he saw there. A truly impossible wish.)

* * *

Tobirama woke. That, in and of itself, was unexpected, though a positive surprise overall. He was laying on his back, grass beneath him. He could hear no sounds beyond the normal background noise of the forest, birds chirping and leaves rustling in the wind. From where he lay, he stretched out his senses, though considering his current state, exhausted and chakra deprived, he could only sense a fraction of his normal distance. (Though even the limited range was more than the average shinobi. Maybe even the average sensor.) It was certainly enough to ascertain that his pursuers were no longer on his heels, though the fact that he was alive had already been a fairly clear indication of that. 

Once he stood and took a look around, however, it appeared that he hadn't actually moved. As far as he could tell, nothing had changed around him, with the obvious exception being that the shinobi that had pursued him were gone, nowhere that Tobirama could sense. 

Oddly, it seemed the scroll (and of course the seal on said scroll), was missing as well. A shame, that; he would have liked to examine it further. But he had other things to worry about at that moment.

He was exhausted, but there was no time to rest. His enemies could return, and he doubted there would be another miracle escape if they did, especially with his energy and chakra drained. It would be safer to make it back to Konoha, and report the ambush. Besides, if there was a possible danger to the village, it was his responsibility to report it; as a shinobi his health was secondary to his duty. 

Delaying only long enough to do the bare minimum in cleaning and bandaging his wounds, he set off for his village. It took a few hours, but the sun was still hanging in the sky as he reached the outer boundaries of Konohagakure, its surrounding wall looming up ahead, gate within reach. 

But it was there he stopped. 

Something was very wrong, though it was not something he could immediately place. He was a shinobi, and he knew it was a mistake to ignore his intuition. It had saved his life more than once. He approached the village carefully, keeping his chakra hidden and avoiding the patrols. Perhaps it seemed a bit paranoid, but something in his head was screaming, demanding he _pay attention_. At first glance, nothing seemed to be out of place. But at a second look...

Perhaps it was something about the guards at the gate, or even the gate itself. Or something else? He ducked away, keeping out off sight of the guards in the tree line, and only approached the wall away from them, away from the gates and the guard posts on the wall.

Tobirama ran a hand along the wooden wall outside of the village, careful to avoid detection. To anyone else, the wood that formed it probably would have looked just the same, but Tobirama knew. He had spent long hours convincing Hashirama to use hardwood for the wall, instead of soft. It was sturdier, more protective, and would last much longer. His brother preferred the softwood because it was easier to create with his Mokuton, and less prone to issues if done incorrectly, and so it would be faster to create. Tobirama argued that for the wall that would protect their fledgling village, it was worth the extra effort. And so, Hashirama had created a sturdy wall of hardwood for Konoha.

But the wall that stood in front of Tobirama was made of softwood.

* * *

Tobirama had never thought he would need to sneak into Konoha, like he would to infiltrate an enemy village. 

But using a Henge to change his most distinctive features and suppressing his already drained chakra, he had slipped into the village as a 'civilian' with little trouble. One upside in having such notable features, the white hair, red eyes, and striking tattoos, was that once those features were changed, he became almost unrecognizable with almost no other alterations. And so, a tall but otherwise nondescript civilian with dark hair, brown eyes, and unmarked skin easily entered Konoha.

In fact, it was really too easy; it should have been more trouble for him to make his way into the village. He'd been the one to arrange such precautions, after all, to make sure that enemy ninja did not do the very thing he had just managed. Identification, at the _very_ least.

But he'd been let through without even having to give a name. The precautions were very lax, and he did not believe it was simply a case of lazy guards.

Once inside, it became clear that things were even stranger than they had seemed from the outside. The buildings lacked organization in their planning, tensions seemed higher amongst the inhabitants. Some of the things he had designed, including basic infrastructure, were either distinctly mishandled or just flat out missing. It was almost embarrassing; the village was an unorganized, unstructured mess.

Also, he could sense none the Hiraishin marks he'd left in strategic places around the village.

He wasn't one to deny uncomfortable facts, and the wall (and missing enemy shinobi) had already been a large red flag. But now, undeniably, everything pointed to one inescapable fact—this was not his Konoha.

It was similar, yes. Likely the differences he had uncovered thus far, while obvious to him, were almost unnoticeable if one did not know the village inside and out as Tobirama did, at least without stripping back the paint. But it was distinctly, unquestionably different, and not in ways that could be explained as changes made while he was away. The differences stretched down to the very core; the village itself had been built differently from the start, and Tobirama did not know why. 

He did not know why or how he had come to be here, in a place that felt like the off-putting otherness of a dream, made real. But what else could be the cause, other than the seal he had used earlier? What that meant for him, exactly... he didn't know.

* * *

It was not often that Tobirama found himself so thoroughly confounded. All his life, he'd known what he was meant to do, to be, and he had done so to the best of his abilities. But he had no such guidance here. On one hand, he was still a shinobi of Konoha. On the other, this was not his Konoha—he didn't even know if this village was still called Konohagakure at all.

He could still feel his brother's chakra, at least. That was reassuring, at least; he didn't know what he would do if the village was completely filled with strangers.

He could also feel... Madara. He would always recognize Madara's chakra, no matter the circumstances. What he felt, though, wasn't anything like the angry and out of control inferno he'd grown used to feeling from him, but nor was his chakra the same as how it had once felt. It wasn't the comforting warmth of a campfire. This... it felt like the fire of his chakra had been doused, diminished to embers. Those embers could certainly still burn, and he had no doubt Madara was still a shinobi unmatched on the battlefield by all but Hashirama, but somehow Madara still felt empty. Not of chakra, but of the depth behind it.

What had happened to him, changed him so deeply?

There were numerous important things he could be doing. He could continue investigating, or find Hashirama, or even take the opportunity to rest, as perhaps things would make more sense if he were less exhausted. But his feet led him inexorably towards Madara.

...He wasn't exactly sure where exactly he'd expected Madara to be, but a bar certainly wasn't it. Tobirama walked in, and from across the room, immediately spotted Madara, face down on the counter, an empty glass in front of him. Strange. Tobirama made his way over, and sat down beside him. He was confident that his disguise would be enough to fool Madara, especially drunk, so he was not too concerned that his cover might be blown. (If it was Madara who discovered him, he probably wouldn't even mind that much.)

When the bartender came over, Tobirama ordered himself a drink that he didn't intend to touch, and a glass of water. The latter he slid over, nearer to the massive pile of hair spilling over the counter that was almost all that could be seen of Madara from that angle. (Tobirama was struck with the sudden urge to run his fingers through that dark mane, but he resisted. Even if he was abruptly certain it must be incredibly nice to touch.) 

"Are you awake?"

He got a few rather unintelligible, miserable-sounding mumbles from the Uchiha beside him. At least partially awake, then. The response did nothing to make Tobirama less concerned, however. 

He pushed the water closer, struck with the urge to help him if he could. Functionally he wanted to use the situation to get information about this unknown world—he was a shinobi, and drunk people were useful in that regard—but that was a bonus. Primarily, he wanted to help Madara, and find out what had put him in this state, if he could. Even if Madara hated him, he still did his best to help him in whatever ways he could... even if that often just meant, in his own world, not forcing Madara to see his face more often than necessary. "You should drink some water, or you'll regret it tomorrow." Not that he really expected a shinobi like Madara to drink anything that a stranger gave him, drunk or not. Tobirama certainly wouldn't. 

The mound of hair that was Madara shifted, until one dark eye could be seen from where his head was pillowed against the countertop. "Go away..." He growled, though his position and the drunken slur to his voice took away most of the threat.

Tobirama, of course, did not go away.

"What happened to you...? I wouldn't have thought you the type to drown his sorrows in alcohol." Tobirama pondered, half to himself. 

The parts of Madara's face he could actually see scrunched up. He mumbled again, and what ended upcoherent was only marginally an answer, more so a drunk ramble. "How dare he... I'll never forgive him, he was wrong... No matter what he says. No one... seems to care but me." Madara hiccuped. Tobirama had no idea what he was talking about, but it also seemed unsurprising, whatever he was talking about. The Uchiha were the type to hold grudges, and Madara even more than the rest. Usually, he had a valid reason to do so. 

"Who won't you forgive?" His first thought was that it was Tobirama, just as in his own world. But that didn't explain why Madara was getting smashed at a bar... Or why his chakra was so strange. 

"...Izuna." Ah. Well. That wasn't the answer he expected _at all._ First and foremost, Izuna was alive in this world? Madara wouldn't be talking about the dead like this. Tobirama hadn't sensed Izuna in the village... but he may very well be out on a mission, or otherwise out of range to his current, limited senses. 

"Why?"

"Killed 'im." Madara spat, but it shifted into something like a wail as he continued. "I, I never even got a chance to properly talk to him before he died..."

Izuna? Madara was upset that Izuna had killed someone? "...Who did he kill?"

He had to concentrate, to hear what Madara said next. "Tobirama..." The Uchiha whispered mournfully. For just a split second, Tobirama thought his disguised identity had been seen through and he was being addressed, before he realized that it was actually the answer to his question, and his breath caught. 

(Madara wouldn't be talking like this to just anyone, even drunk. Yet here he was, spilling to a stranger. It didn't make sense, since Madara knew for certain he'd never seen the dark haired, dark eyed man before in his life, and didn't even know his name. Something about the man beside him just seemed safe, in a way that Madara's drunk mind didn't bother to think about too deeply.)

Tobirama quickly put together what had been, in retrospect, obvious. It was him, the missing piece in this world. This world's Tobirama had died. It was one thing to know, intellectually, that he'd played a big role in the village's construction. It was another thing to physically see the changes his absence had brought, to see that, while the village was standing, it was also disorganized and halfway to chaos.

It also explained why Madara was not angry. Izuna must have said something to upset him deeply, but even so, Madara wouldn't be violently angry at Izuna, not like the Madara of his world had been at Tobirama. But why did this version of Madara care about Tobirama's death at all?

"Then you... don't hate Tobirama...?"

Madara sat up so fast he almost toppled over backwards, first looking shocked and confused, though his expression quickly shifted to deeply and almost exaggeratedly offended. "No! Of course not! Why, why would you think that? Is someone saying that!?" 

Tobirama, however, didn't process Madara's anger; he could barely breathe through the shock. Madara, this Madara, didn't hate him. "Sorry, I... Sorry, it was just a rumor that I overheard." He managed to force the words out, even with his brain still rebooting.

"I would never!" 

Before Tobirama could find his words, Madara ordered another drink. Tobirama frowned in distant disapproval, still distracted, but didn't say anything as the already drunk man downed yet another glass. He was a lot less willing to keep quiet when Madara then reached over and stole Tobirama's drink, the one that he'd ordered as a cover. It was easier to push the shock to the back of his mind for the time being, when he had reason to worry over Madara. He hadn't even drank any water.

"I think that's more than enough."

Madara's only response was to drop his head back down to the countertop with an audible thunk. 

"..."

Tobirama sighed.

Even for a ninja like Tobirama, it was not easy to move Madara, wasted, depressed, and most of the way unconscious. Admittedly, Tobirama's injuries and exhaustion weren't exactly helping, nor was the way Madara kept unthinkingly tugging at his hair. (He was studiously ignoring how much he liked Madara's hands in his hair, how much he never wanted Madara to stop doing that...) But he wouldn't leave Madara at the bar—even if it meant all but carrying him to an inn nearby. He certainly wasn't taking him back to the Uchihas... that was just asking for trouble, even if the distance itself wasn't somewhat prohibitive.

The innkeeper seemed well used to drunk shinobi, at least, and he rented a room with little fuss. Good, since he didn't have the energy or the patience to argue.

He got Madara to the room, and got him into the bed, where the Uchiha almost immediately fell asleep.

Really, what Tobirama knew he should do now is leave, now that Madara was safe. Do what he should have done earlier, and go to the Hokage. 

But... Madara said he didn't hate him. The joy of that, the relief, was almost choking. It didn't even matter if Madara was ambivalent towards him, or even if he disliked him... anything was better than outright hatred, especially with how long he'd felt Madara's hate. He didn't have the Sharingan, but it felt like he could viscerally remember, just as intensely as if he did, every time Madara had looked at him like he was the scum of the earth, like he wanted to reach out and kill him with his bare hands.

But this Madara didn't. Of course, this Madara also currently thought he was a stranger, but it didn't matter. 

Additionally, the exhaustion that had been pressing down on him since he'd used the seal earlier was getting heavier and heavier.

Tobirama... he was stuck in an unfamiliar world, one where he was supposed to be dead, alone and uncertain. He was hurt and exhausted and for once in his life, he wanted to be just a little bit selfish.

Carefully, he laid down on the bed beside Madara, facing him but not touching. Tobirama would just rest, just shut his eyes for a few minutes. He certainly had to leave before Madara woke up.

Tobirama closed his eyes, letting the feeling of Madara's diminished, but still comforting, chakra wash over him.

Before long, Tobirama was deeply asleep. The moment he fell unconscious, the henge he'd used to disguise himself wore off.

* * *

(Madara woke, the next morning, to a splitting headache, but any pain was immediately forgotten the moment he opened his eyes. Right there in front him was a sight that had him in awe; white hair, three sharp red lines, and strong features softened with sleep... lips, softly parted, as he _breathed_ , alive. Madada knew he must be dreaming... he never wanted to wake up, if he was. He didn't move, barely blinked, as if any motion would cause the scene before him to shatter, as if between blinks Tobirama would simply disappear.)

Tobirama was not usually one to take time in waking, not when it could be dangerous to spend too long going from sleeping, to awake and aware. In that moment, however, sleep pulled at him with a force almost impossible to resist. He felt comfortable, happy and safe... he couldn't remember the last time he had felt like this. The rest had done wonders for the previous night's exhaustion and low chakra. Still, the disruption in the chakra of someone nearby tugged at him, even asleep, and he gradually pulled himself awake.

Opening his eyes was a shock. To wake up and see Madara, who hated him, who wanted him dead, who Tobirama still loved, staring back—Tobirama almost jolted back right off the bed. But then he remembered, the seal, unfamiliar Konoha, Madara at the bar. Right, this wasn't his Madara. 

But... judging from Madara's expression, and the way he was still just... staring, clearly awake, Tobirama was willing to bet he was no longer disguised. A tuft of his own white hair that he saw out of the corner of his eye confirmed it. He hadn't intended to fall asleep, but he clearly had anyway.

What on earth did you say to someone who was looking at you like you were a ghost, because, to them, you were?

A spear of light moved across them from the window, and Madara winced in pain, and whatever spell he was seemingly under broke under the pain of Madara's clearly brutal hangover. But it lasted barely a moment, before the Uchiha's eyes abruptly spun red with the Sharingan, clearly looking for tricks or Genjutsus. (And, unbeknownst to Tobirama, desperate to sear the image of Tobirama before him into his mind with a permanence that only the Sharingan could grant.)

"You..." Madara wheezed. "You're dead." His eyes widened, still red and spinning. "Oh, I see. I'm going crazy." He gave a laugh that bordered on the hysterical, hands raising to fist into his own hair, tugging fitfully. 

Tobirama, quickly headed towards somewhere like 'distinctly and intensely concerned', reached out to wrap his fingers around one of Madara's wrists. The man immediately froze, as if he'd been petrified. "It's complicated, but I'm not dead." He explained. Madara's eyes flickered quickly between his face and his hand. "...I'm also not the Tobirama from this world." He added.

He knew it might be better to keep quiet, to keep his cards close to his chest. Safer, probably, and any good Shinobi knew not to spill secrets that could be useful to keep. Tobirama was nothing if not a good Shinobi. But... this was Madara, and this Madara didn't hate him, and so he found that he wanted to speak. He'd already failed, anyway, by letting Madara see him without a disguise. There were few explanations he could give for that. He certainly didn't want to pretend to be a dead man brought back to life.

"...Not from this world? What does that even mean?" This was clearly a lot for Madara to take in, between the shock and the hangover, and he still looked kind of like he'd been smacked in the head with a Doton jutsu. He'd deactivated his Sharingan as well, likely due to the pain. Well, Tobirama could help a bit with one of those things. He brushed his fingers, glowing with healing chakra, over Madara's forehead, soothing away some of the pain. He pulled his hand away before he could let the gesture become a caress, and tried to ignore the way Madara seemed to unthinkingly lean into his touch, subtly chase it. Madara's eyes softened, and he inhaled shakily. 

(Madara could barely breathe over the awe, no matter how confused he was. Tobirama's healing skills, the fact that healed his hangover without question, the fact that he was _touching_ him, the fact that he was so very _alive_...)

Trying to focus, to pretend they weren't still laying in bed together and that Madara wasn't looking at him like _that_ , he answered Madara's question. "Just what I said. There was an accident with a seal, and I found myself here, somewhere that is clearly not the world I originated from. It was obvious, even before I realized that I am, apparently, deceased in this world."

"But you're still... Tobirama?" It was half a question, half a statement, like Madara wasn't entirely sure if he wanted to know the answer, in case it wasn't what he wanted to hear.

Tobirama simply shrugged. "I am who I've always been. I don't know what the Tobirama of this world was like, or if he was different to me."

Madara considered that, before excitement lit his face. "Did you ever write documents on the formation of a unified school for both shinobi clan and civilian children?" Tobirama gave him a strange look at the non sequitur, and Madara flushed, but pushed onwards emphatically. "It was how I got to know... my... Tobirama, his documents and paperwork, the things he left behind. That's why I fell in..." He flushed bright red, stumbling on his words and cutting himself off. 

Still blushing, Madara continued on a different track, and Tobirama didn't question what he had been saying earlier. "Before that, I didn't know anything but the rumors and reputation. Afterwards, I knew what he was really like, since he also wrote a lot of notes about himself. Plus, the plans were brilliant! But, that one was incomplete, and I couldn't really figure it out completely. I tried my best to implement it, and most plans, in honor of, well... him. But I don't think I did it right." It had weighed on Madara, that he couldn't put all of Tobirama's plans, so brilliant, into effect. 

Tobirama was maybe a little bit red himself. "Well, yes. I did write plans for a school." He didn't know where to start with the clear adoration in Madara's words, so he stuck to the facts. "However, I didn't finish until a few months after we started on the village." It was one thing to plan ahead of time, but reality was always unpredictable, and it was hard to say how the different clans and civilians would come together. He went on to briefly explain how he'd ultimately managed to find success in the plan, and fix the early flaws. Madara's eyes were wide and intense as he listened, giddy almost, paying attention in a way most people didn't when listening to Tobirama explain something technical. Most people, including Hashirama, mentally checked out more or less three sentences in.

Once he was done explaining, however, he had his own question.

"May I ask... how and when did the Tobirama of this world die? From what you said both now and last night, I assume Izuna had something to do with it, and that it happened a relatively long time ago." It wasn't as strange as he might have expected, asking after his own alternate self's death. He'd grown up knowing he could die at any moment in the war, and expecting he would die young. 

Madara, though, winced, and not just because he didn't really remember anything he'd said the night before. Pain tightened the corners of his eyes, and it took him a while to speak. "Tobirama used a powerful new jutsu to attack Izuna, but then immediately after, started healing him. While his guard was down, Izuna stabbed him through the heart... he died before anyone could react."

Ah. That made a shocking amount of sense. "I see. In my world, I injured Izuna, but I wasn't quick enough to start healing him before you came to his defense. Or, rather, the Madara from my world did. Unfortunately, Izuna died."

Madara winced again. (Madara remembered something his brother had said to him the night before, before he went off to get drunk, in response to his increasing distance after Tobirama's death. Izuna had accused that Madara would have rather had Izuna die. He didn't; once he understood just what a loss Tobirama's death had been, he was upset, heartbroken over Tobirama's death, and sometimes it was hard to look at Izuna, but that didn't mean he wanted him dead. Izuna was his brother, even if he was also a violent, paranoid asshole.)

"You're the same as... this Tobirama was, then, or at least close..." Madara's piercing gaze stared intently at Tobirama. Even without the Sharingan activated, he had an intense stare. "You know, your cousin Touka... when she gave me your-uh, his paperwork, she told me that... he would have wanted me to have them. Because he was in love with me."

Tobirama felt his stomach drop as panic raced through his skin, both freezing cold and boiling hot at the same time. 

He was caught between fear that Madara knew and aggravation that Touka had told him, though the former was much stronger and the latter was more an afterthought. It was not Touka's secret to tell... but, at the time she told, that version of him was dead, and she did not know that impossible circumstances would make it so that the knowledge would affect him anyway, so he couldn't truly blame her. He was surprised she even knew; he hadn't been aware that anyone did, even if she was closer to him than most of the rest of the Senju. He wondered if this Tobirama had told her, or if she figured it out. He wondered if his Touka had known.

He could say it was simply a difference between their two worlds. That even though this world's Tobirama had fallen in love with Madara, he hadn't done the same. He could lie, and protect himself.

Tobirama had long since hardened himself, shielded his soft heart beneath so much armor that most thought he had no heart at all. He had convinced the Madada of his world of that, certainly. He didn't want this Madara to think him heartless as well.

For Madara, right there and then, he broke open his heart like shattering ice. Like pressing his thumb into an egg until the shell cracked open, merciless and cruel, inviting agony upon himself. The soft, fragile part inside was vulnerable, leaking past the ruined protections. If doing so meant this trembling, yearning part of himself—so very, very easy to destroy without protection, put in the hands of the man who could do more damage than any other—would be killed once and for all, then so be it.

"Me, as well. I loved you too. I've always loved you." He admitted, words falling out in a quiet whisper as he held out his heart, braced for pain. 

But Madara didn't meet that fragile trust with pain, didn't hurt him with biting words that could have hurt even more than a physical blow. 

With no warning at all, Madara surged forward to kiss him, deep and intense, his answer in the most desperate way he could give it. It held every moment of desperation and adoration he'd held but never thought he'd be able to give, not in this life. The press of lips froze Tobirama, but he'd always been quick, and it took no time at all until he was kissing back, deepening the kiss, desperate.

It was so very easy to fall into Madara. And this time, unbelievably, Madara was there to catch him. He was happy to let Madara take him apart and put him back together. They kissed until both were out of breath, lips kiss‐swollen and cheeks flushed. 

For a long few minutes, they simply breathed, air shared between them. 

It's Madara who eventually broke the silence. "Are you going to stay? In this world?" Madara was not doing a very good job of hiding just how desperate he was for the answer, or how equally scared he was of it. 

"I'm... not sure it's even possible to go back." He could study it, try to find or recreate the seal that had brought him here in the first place, maybe eventually figure out if returning was even a possibility. He _could_ , but he wouldn't. "My world doesn't need me anymore. I've helped get the village functioning, my students are strong, and can find a new teacher. Hashirama... it may hurt him, but he doesn't need me, either. This world needs me more. And..." It was the last part that was difficult to admit, most of all. "Frankly, I don't want to go back." Between a world where Madara hated him, and a world where Madara kissed him and looked at him like he'd hung the stars, there was really no question.

The relief he saw in Madara's face only served to convince him it was the correct choice. 

But in some ways, it all felt too easy, and that scared him. Like once Madara saw past the illusion of his other-self, he would begin to hate Tobirama just as the other version of him had. He knew he would dig his claws in until that happened, too desperate to steal what he could get, but he still couldn't help but challenge Madara, like pressing on a bruise.

He put some distance between them, frowning. "You know, I'm not really your Tobirama, I'm not the man you knew from your world. And you aren't the Madara I knew." He wasn't the Tobirama of this world, and who knew if or how the Tobirama of here had been different from him. After all, things had turned out differently. He'd felt, viscerally, just how much 'his' Madara had hated him, had known it for long enough that he would never forget what being hated by Madara felt like, even if this Madara, inexplicably, claimed to love him. "The Madara in my world hated me for killing Izuna."

He wasn't the person who had sacrificed his own life for Izuna's. He'd lived, and Madara had hated him for it. He had certainly never blamed Madara for that. 

Madara stroked his hand up Tobirama's arm, and Tobirama shivered, leaning into the touch despite any efforts at keeping distance. "Maybe you aren't him, but... you're still Tobirama, I can already tell! Still the same brilliant man who worked hard for this peace, who gave, gives so much of himself for everyone. Didn't you also leave clever doodles and comments on the edges of your plans, put so much of yourself in your notes and echoes that even a blind man could understand you? I... Izuna is my brother, and I love him, but he killed the person trying to heal him, and I think your world's Izuna would have done the same if you'd tried. I know his flaws. And it's not like you'd kill him now." He added, full of certainty. It was true; with the peace there was no reason to fight, and truth be told, Tobirama wouldn't even if they were still at war. He nodded, unsure what to say otherwise, because it was too strange to hear parts of himself he'd never considered notable or valuable, brought up as cause for adoration.

Madara continued, and his voice changed, some of the aching sorrow that he'd carried for so long creeping in. "The Tobirama here, never knew how incredible he was, how valued he was, and I'll regret that forever. But I'm not going to make that mistake again. You're amazing. You're here, with me, and I love you. If your world's Madara couldn't see the treasure right in front of him, then he's blind, and it's his loss!" 

(Madara had never gotten the chance to know his world's Tobirama in person. He wouldn't know if there were outward differences, if this Tobirama smiled differently, or wore different clothes in his free time, or slept in a different way. But those superficial details were unimportant, compared to his beautiful soul and brilliant mind, and Madara knew with the surety of his own Sharingan that this man was the same in every way that was important. An Uchiha's anger was as intense as an inferno, but their love was equally strong.

He would forever mourn the Tobirama who had sacrificed himself to save Izuna's life. But he had a second chance now, an impossible miracle, and he would not waste it.)

Tobirama gave a shaky exhale, almost overwhelmed with relief, gratitude, and love. "Okay... Okay." It was hard to believe, and his doubts ran deep, but... hearing it helped. 

This still felt like a dream. He curled closer, letting himself find comfort in Madara's arms. He was taller than Madara, but it didn't feel that way, with his head tucked beneath Madara's chin and his arms around him. Tobirama couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this safe... if ever. 

Tobirama was one of the strongest ninjas of his generation. He didn't need to be protected, and so no one tried. But Madara, he let Tobirama be weak, be fragile in his arms, and wouldn't let anything hurt him while he was.

Madara squeezed him tight, and after a few long minutes of comfortable silence, spoke again with a look in his eyes that bordered on manic. "You should marry me."

Tobirama jolted, looking up at him with wide eyes. "You're crazy, you know, technically we only just met hours ago." But he gave a quiet laugh, joyful, because maybe they were actually both crazy. "But yes, of course."

They both almost ended up falling on the floor, what with Madara's exuberant celebration. Tobirama didn't give a shit, not as long as Madara kept kissing him.


	2. Repair

Hashirama was drowning under the paperwork and responsibilities of running a new and almost impossible village. A bunch of shinobi, who previously ranged from tense, occasional allies to bitterest of enemies, with generations worth of feuds between clans? It was a logistical and diplomatic nightmare, and he was having a hell of a time figuring out how to get the gears spinning smoothly, even years after the village had been built. Those kinds of things, those plans, had always been Tobirama's speciality... Hashirama had long known that he didn't have the head for it—he was charismatic and powerful, but administration and planning were beyond him—but he'd taken for granted that once they made peace, Tobirama would be by his side to help. 

Tobirama had been very different in so many ways from Hashirama, and Hashirama loved his brother, but he had also known he honestly didn't understand him very well. He just hadn't known how little he knew about Tobirama until his brother died, healing someone Hashirama had thought he despised, and in doing so, became the catalyst for the peace that Hashirama had so long desired. 

(But not like that. Not with that cost.)

It had been... beyond hard, to get the village started. The dream was one thing, but the actual work was different from what he imagined. Mito had helped, as had Madara to some extent, but the majority of the work had still fallen on him... All the while, he was still grieving his last brother.

He knew Madara was angry at him for not doing more to honor Tobirama. Had begun to think Hashirama didn't care about Tobirama at all, maybe, for avoiding every mention of him, and he knew it was causing his friend to pull away from him. But Hashirama... he could barely even _think_ about Tobirama as it was, when even thinking about him was agony, like knives in his heart. He had to be strong, had to build their village, defend the peace Tobirama had died for.

If he spent too much time thinking about his brother, he would fall apart.

(The only time he let himself think about Tobirama was when he was alone at home with Mito, when he could collapse into her arms and _cry_ , not the blubbering tears he put on to be dramatic, but quiet, choking sobs of true grief.)

* * *

Izuna dragged his feet as he walked into the village. He had been gone just for the previous evening, and come back that morning, an overnight mission he'd taken last minute. He... may have been avoiding Madara, but he wouldn't actually admit that to anyone. He knew he had upset his brother, which meant Madara would be off mourning in silence by Tobirama's grave, picking a fight, or getting drunk, depending on if he felt more sad, angry, or guilty. It was a bad idea to bring up Tobirama at the best of times, but especially in anger. He'd snapped at Madara, using Tobirama against him. 

_"Maybe you would have prefered if Tobirama survived over me!"_

Fuck, he shouldn't have said that yesterday. It hadn't helped anything, and Izuna knew it wouldn't, he'd just... been angry, and lashed out. But Madara hadn't even yelled or pushed him out the window, he'd just... left. Which was how Izuna knew he was _really_ upset. Madara got angry and dramatic easily, and had a tendency to rage and yell and bluster. Madara yelling at him would have been good, even comforting in its familiarity. But Izuna knew, when he was angry over something serious, very angry and very serious, sometimes Madara went past yelling and wrapped right around to deathly quiet. 

Like he knew if he fought with Izuna, he might not stop until he'd killed him.

Ever since Izuna had killed Tobirama, Madara had started becoming more distant, more cold. To almost everyone, really, but especially towards him. Izuna wouldn't apologize, though. They had been at war, in the middle of a fight. For fuck's sake, Tobirama had stabbed him right beforehand! Sure, he was healing him, but he was also his rival; they had been trying to kill each other for years, and he should have just accepted the healing was meant with no ulterior motives??

(If, between the pain, fear, and confusion, the attack had been a little more reflexive than a conscious choice, then he would never actually admit to it. And if some part of him, deep down, regretted what he'd done, that was a secret he'd take to the grave.)

* * *

Touka pushed herself in her training until she was soaked in sweat and her muscles trembled, but as much as she enjoyed a fight and despite her best efforts, it wasn't enough to take her mind off of the dark thoughts that troubled her.

When Madara had come asking about Tobirama, curious about the man who had died saving his brother, she'd given him what little pieces remained of Tobirama's life. Plans, inventions, notes, the things that Tobirama had written, pieces of the true self he had tried so hard to hide.

She gave Madara all of Tobirama's paperwork, in part because Tobirama would have wanted him of all people to have it. But equally, because of the vicious influence of spite and pain that made her want to lash out and _hurt_ someone right back. She wanted Madara to realize what an incredible and loving person her cousin was, despite his reputation. She wanted him to regret and feel pain over Tobirama's death just like she did.

It was maybe cruel to Madara to blame him, since it was his brother who had killed Tobirama, but Madara was the one Tobirama cared about. Tobirama wouldn't have healed Izuna if he hadn't cared for Madara so much. (She didn't tell him that, it was a step too far, even for her. But after he learned about Tobirama, she suspected Madara had realized it anyway.)

Later, when he came to her with a lost look and painful questions, she'd admitted that Tobirama had loved him. This time it wasn't a way to punish Madara. She could see it in him just as she'd seen it in Tobirama... She could see that Madara loved him in the same lost, hopeless (and hopelessly devestating) way that Tobirama had loved Madara, first. Madara was too late, but he deserved to know that Tobirama had been his since long ago. Maybe it would have been better if it was a secret that remained buried, as Tobirama certainly would have preferred, but she stood by her decision, and Tobirama was no longer there to blame her for it.

(Touka sometimes wondered if Tobirama was at peace, wherever he was. Her favorite cousin, so skilled at pretending to be a weapon that even his brother had sometimes forgotten he was simply a person, had gotten far too little of it, in life.)

* * *

Kagami was supposed to be training at the Uchiha compound, but instead, he was sitting on one of the bridges over the Naka River, kicking his legs as he watched the flowing water beneath him. It wasn't his fault; the person who was supposed to be teaching him that morning hadn't shown up. It wasn't the first time, either. He'd been hoping to find Madara, because sometimes Madara would teach him a thing or two, or even just tell him stories—he was less likely to be scolded if he was with the clan head, anyway—but... Madara wasn't around that morning, and Kagami didn't know where he might be. 

The stories were his favorite, almost always about one particular shinobi, the shinobi that Kagami looked up to above all others. Kagami had never actually met him, though... he'd died before Kagami could get the chance. When their clans were still at war, Kagami had been too young to be fighting on the battlefield. Now that he was finally old enough to start going on missions—though they were always boring, and always with a skilled shinobi still—he couldn't help but wonder what it would have been like, learning from Tobirama, instead of adults who didn't really like him all that much.

He only knew about Tobirama from stories that people told him. Usually Madara, but occasionally from Mito or some other adult. What he'd heard was enough for Kagami to be in awe of him. (He'd also heard some not so nice things about Tobirama, from other people, but he didn't pay much attention to those. They definitely weren't true! Those people mostly didn't like Kagami either, so they were probably just mean.)

He knew that Tobirama liked kids, that Madara, the strongest Uchiha, liked Tobirama, and he had been told that Tobirama definitely would have liked Kagami, too, even though Kagami had often been told he was way too curious, too obnoxious, too different.

Mito had, not long ago, noticed his fascination and adoration, and given him Tobirama's happuri. Getting that piece of armor was the proudest moment of his life. It didn't exactly make him more popular among most his family, wearing a piece of armor with the Senju symbol on it, but he didn't care. Besides, it had made Madara smile when he saw him, even if it was one of those terribly sad smiles.

(Sometimes he couldn't help but worry that, if Tobirama were still around, he'd also dislike Kagami, or think he wasn't worthy of wearing his armor. But, he'd never get the chance to find out.)

* * *

It was well past noon, and Tobirama... did not want to leave the safety of the inn's rented room. It was obvious Madara felt the same. They'd already spent half the day there, talking, kissing, and more. It was easy to ignore the rest of the world while safe in bed with Madara, but they couldn't stay there forever, especially since someone had come knocking to kick them out.

With the real world once again making its presence known, Tobirama pressed his face into Madara's chest with a muffled sound of annoyance, (ignoring Madara's fondly amused chuckle), before he pushed himself up and out of bed. Madara followed, keeping close, as if he felt the moment he wasn't touching Tobirama, the Senju would disappear. Tobirama didn't really mind, since in a lot of ways he felt the same.

There were still questions to answer, things that they might stumble over. Maybe Madara would still leave him eventually. (Madara would do everything he could to prove he wouldn't leave, for as long as he needed to). It wouldn't be easy, especially once they left this room, and more people found out about Tobirama. (His brother would definitely cry on him, and he wasn't looking forward to that). He had to help fix the mess that they'd managed to make of the village without him, anyway. It was all bound to be stressful. 

"I suppose we need to get this over with..."

* * *

Hashirama was first person they had to tell, of course. He would be even if he wasn't Tobirama's brother, because he was the Hokage, and needed to be informed of such things as a new shinobi materializing out of thin air. Tobirama put the Henge he's used the night before back on while they traveled through the village, and only dropped it once they were outside the door to Hashirama's office.

(Hashirama looked up exhaustedly from the paperwork on his desk as someone knocked on his door. Oh no, was it someone bringing more things to do?? But then–)

As Tobirama walked in, his brother gave a sharp but shaky inhale. He looked like he was about to fall over, or just straight up pass out.

Tobirama usually avoided Hashirama's overbearing hugs at all cost, but... with a small sigh, he held out his arms to Hashirama in a clear offering. In no time at all, Hashirama had leapt over his desk and crashed into him, winding his arms around him like an octopus and crushing him tightly to his chest. Tobirama would be more annoyed about it if it weren't for how much Hashirama was shaking, trembling in his arms, and giving soft, pained sobs.

He was right, his brother was definitely crying on him, but... rather than annoyed, it just made Tobirama remember how he had felt when Kawarama and Itama died, how he would feel if Hashirama died, and he swallowed hard as he tried to keep his own tears at bay. Tobirama hugged him back, and let Hashirama keep holding him until his brother had finally stopped shaking like a leaf.

Once they separated, Hashirama grabbed Tobirama's hands in his own, tears still streaming down his cheeks, but now smiling from ear to ear.

Madara was giving Hashirama a blatantly confused look, like he hadn't expected that kind of reaction at all. Even though Tobirama was surprised himself, since he certainly hadn't expected that intense a reaction, nor had he expected it to hit himself quite so hard—since from his prospective he had seen his broher only a few days ago—he'd at least expected _something_ from Hashirama. It seemed Madara hadn't, for some reason.

"How?" Hashirama whispered.

"Well..."

* * *

It took almost an hour to explain everything to Hashirama, especially since the ridiculous tree of a man ended up crying on him _multiple_ times. (Eventually he did start pushing Hashirama away, especially once the tears took on a distinctly overblown and dramatic tint that suggested they were exaggerated). He and Madara hadn't even yet mentioned the fact that they were actually engaged... Tobirama was soggy enough, he didn't need _more_ tears. They would tell everyone soon, but for now, that was a secret between just the two of them.

After that, Tobirama would have been more than happy just avoiding everyone else for the rest of his life, rather than explain again, or at the very least hide away for the day. But such was not to be, and Tobirama knew better than to avoid something just because it made him uncomfortable. Madara tried to convince him to put off talking to Izuna, at least, but Tobirama was adamant he be next. Tobirama wanted to see him, alive, to really prove the difference to himself.

(Izuna swore he was seeing ghosts now. Someone who died by his hand should not be walking towards him. Tobirama had always looked as intimidating as a ghost, now he fit the bill... oh no wait, Madara was with him and smiling at him. Maybe, somehow, it wasn't just Izuna's guilty conscience playing tricks on him.)

After Izuna stopped looking alarmingly pale at the sight of him, he squinted at Tobirama for a solid thirty seconds, then looked at Madara, staying decidedly far away from Tobirama. "Hey, brother, what the fuck is this. What the fuck did you do."

Madara immediately bristled. "I didn't do anything!" He snapped, though frankly, he seemed more upset that he _hadn't_ been able to do anything than the accusation itself.

Cutting in, and ignoring the look Izuna shot his way at hearing him speak, Tobirama added, "He is correct, this was not his fault. You should be aware, I hold no anger towards you, and have no interest in fighting."

Izuna's frown was complicated, but among everything else, even behind the blatant distrust, Tobirama could read something that he suspected was relief.

Madara still kind of looked like he wanted to put himself between Tobirama and his brother, even though Izuna frankly seemed to have no interest in getting any closer anyway, but Tobirama put his hand on Madara's arm, and shook his head. Madara all but melted, and looked back at Tobirama with a soft smile. 

Izuna immediately made a gagging sound.

Tobirama rolled his eyes at Izuna. He'd never quite realized his longtime rival was so childish. 

...It was weird, though, looking at someone he had killed, and knowing that that person knew what it was like to kill him as well. But they were both alive, here.

"Okay, now you know. We're leaving before you can subject us to any more of your whining." Madara told his brother.

Madara was clearly all geared up to storm off, and drag Tobirama along, but Izuna darted forward and grabbed his brother's arm before he could. 

Tobirama pretended not to hear Izuna, speaking quietly to his brother, carefully hesitant. "Madara? You look happy, for once. I'm glad." Tobirama hid an almost invisible smile, as he watched the tension slowly ease from Madara. "So, I'll forgive you for this bullshit for now. But you better explain everything later!" Tobirama had never known Izuna, so he didn't know much about his personality beyond what he'd seen on the battlefield, but this seemed like a good sign.

He hoped Madara would make peace with Izuna, because he had seen his own world—and Madara—without Izuna. He knew Madara loved his brother, and knew first hand how hard Madara would take his loss. Tobirama would most likely never like Izuna, or like being around him very much, and the feeling was probably mutual, but he was certain they could at least coexist peacefully.

* * *

Touka was next. If Tobirama didn't tell her he was here and alive, he wouldn't put it past her to hunt him down when she did find out. Madara wouldn't be happy to lose him again so soon, after all. Besides... he had a lot to thank her for.

(The first time Touka heard a hauntingly familiar voice call her name, at first, she thought she had just misheard, or it was just her imagination. It was just the wind or the sound of a spar in the distance.)

"Touka." Tobirama said, for the second time.

Touka turned, and her jaw dropped. Her sword, which she'd just been practicing with, slipped out of her fingers, and the blade only barely missed her foot.

"You're alive?" She breathed, as off-balance as Tobirama had ever seen her.

He nodded gently. "I am. I'm here, Touka."

She quickly pulled him into a tight hug, and while it wasn't quite as smothering as Hashirama's had been, it was still desperately tight.

Tobirama gave her a soft smile, and murmured, "Thank you for telling Madara about me." He didn't need to elaborate any further, it was clear she understood. 

"It worked out then? Good... You deserve to be happy. If he hurts you, tell me and I'll chase him down for you." She gave a decisive nod. After all, if things had gone badly, he wouldn't have thanked her for it.

They both ignored the fact the offended squawk that Madara gave behind them at the mere _suggestion_ that Madara might hurt him in any way, just as they ignored the shaky, tearful edge to both of their soft laughter that followed.

* * *

Most shinobi did wide-eyed double-takes as they saw him walking through the village with Madara, now undisguised. It had not been so long that people had forgotten about the white-haired, red tattooed Senju, not with the reputation he had. The people who didn't know would hear soon enough as rumor spread.

Now that he'd told Hashirama, and the two other people who _really_ shouldn't hear it through rumors first, (minus Mito, but Hashirama would tell her) there was no need for the disguise any longer.

Madara nudged him, and gave a smirk that should really be forbidden. "There's someone I think you should meet." With that, he looked over towards a bridge, where a small, familiar figure sat.

"Hey, Kagami!" Madara yelled.

(Kagami looked up curiously, then reached up to rub his eyes, blinking rapidly. Uchiha were known for their sight, but maybe his was going wrong. He may not have met Tobirama, but he had heard about what he looked like, and the armor that covered the forehead of the man beside Madara looked like the one he was wearing. But Tobirama was dead?)

Of course, Tobirama already knew Kagami. He'd been training him, in his old world, for a while. 

That didn't mean it wasn't a shock, to walk up to him, and see Kagami wearing Tobirama's own face armor, even though this Kagami would never have had the chance to meet him.

The Senju symbol on his own happuri had long since been changed to the symbol of Konoha, and so it was almost amusing to see Kagami wearing the old one. He'd never expected to see an Uchiha wearing the Senju symbol. But it was the tightness in his chest that he focused on. After all, it _meant_ something that Kagami had chosen to wear something so very intrinsic to Tobirama, even though he'd never even known him.

Kagami's eyes were almost sparkling as he looked up at him, but there was something like shyness and hesitation there, too, and the boy didn't seem to know what to say.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Kagami. You wear my armor well, I can think of no better person to wear it."

Kagami's eyes somehow grew even wider, and Tobirama was actually a little bit worried that he would pass out from what seemed like pure awe... and also potentially hyperventilating. 

He reached down to ruffle Kagami's already messy hair. "Breathe."

Kagami nodded so fast the happuri almost flew right off his face, and definitely didn't actually start breathing any better than before.

Tobirama sighed lightly, but also smiled slightly anyway. He hoped the Kagami of his own world wouldn't be too badly off without him, but at least that Kagami had his teammates, and Tobirama had taught him the foundation of everything he knew. 

This Kagami clearly needed him too.

He'd have to find and collect the rest of his students as well, if possible. He'd always been happy to teach, to see children grow and learn, to be happy and safe. It had always been the thing he had been most proud of, when it came to the village. 

That Kagami, even though he had never met Tobirama in this world, still looked up to him, looked at him with adoration even? It made him even happier.

* * *

There was only one more stop for the day. It may have been the most difficult one, as well.

Tobirama stood before a grave that bore his name, but wasn't for him. The grave for the Tobirama of the world he had found himself in. Hearing about his own death hadn't been too strange, but... this was different. This was so much more real.

He'd asked Madara to give him some privacy, and Madara had. Tobirama could feel his chakra just far enough away to not overhear anything Tobirama might say. 

"Hello, Tobirama." It was strange, talking to himself in such a way, but he pushed through the discomfort.

The other reunions had been more so for everyone else, Madara included (he hadn't missed the clear tension and distance between Madara and most everyone else, almost as bad as in his own world), though they had also affected him much more than he had expected. But as much as it had clearly made everyone happy... in some ways, it just made Tobirama feel like an imposter, like he was stealing a place that didn't belong to him. Especially here. 

Stealing a place that should have belonged to the one whose grave he stood before. 

"I am... sorry, for what happened to you. I hope you know Madara loves you. Loves us? Though... even now it's hard for me to believe. You would likely feel the same, if we truly are that similar. You, however... you did what I couldn't, and I'll be forever grateful." Both grateful and guilty, truthfully, taking this blessing he hadn't been the one to earn, but there was nothing he could do. He couldn't bring back the other Tobirama, and if his own presence made Madara happy, he would stay.

"I will take care of him for you. Madara will be safe and loved, I promise."

He hoped the other Tobirama could take solace from that. If it were him—and it was, kind of—he would want Madara to be happy.

That would have to be enough.

* * *

* * *

The next few months were a whirlwind of action, almost as bad as when Tobirama had helped set up the village the first time. While, at the very least, he didn't have to start from scratch, he did have to tear down some mistakes so that things could be re-done properly. The _wall_ , for one.

Add on top of the drama of 'coming back to life', taking over training of Kagami and his other new-old students, and properly marrying Madara (they could have waited on that, but neither he nor Madara wanted to wait _any longer_ ), Tobirama had very little time to even think about much anything else.

In what felt like no time at all, a year had passed in this new world, and the flaws and fractures of the village had been steadily and carefully fixed under his supervision and guidance. Tobirama finally began to feel as if he actually belonged; what had once been another world was starting to become his. 

Occasionally, though, the strangeness, and loss, of being from a different world snuck up on him. 

Most of the time, he forgot this Hashirama was not the one he had grown up with, because they were so very similar. But once in a while, he would mention something, or reflect on a memory, and Hashirama would look at him with no recognition at all, and Tobirama would remember that this Hashirama never lived those memories. Or Touka, or Mito, or Kagami. It was strange, missing people who were, technically, still with him.

In some ways, it made it easier that he'd never really known the Madara from his own world. Everything was new, and all the good memories he had with Madara were memories that they shared.

It was a joy to learn everything about his husband, both good and bad. To see what he was like when he was happy and excited, or when he was tired and mad. It was all beautiful to Tobirama. (His anger, even at its worst, was never like the hate of the other Madara). 

Not that things were always perfect between him and Madara, of course. They were both shattered in various ways, and they had to learn how their sharp, jagged edges fit together.

Some days, Tobirama would wake up confused, would flinch away from Madara, reflexively expecting hatred, or when they were out, he would look at Izuna like he was a ghost. 

Some days Madara woke up convinced he was dead, and would cling to him, overwhelmed with grief.

(It was the worst when their bad days coincided; one flinchy and uncertain, the other desperate and clingy, but both hurting. But Madara would never purposefully make Tobirama uncomfortable, and Tobirama would always want to be close to Madara, and so even then, they would eventually end up in each other's arms.)

Some days Tobirama would lock himself away in his newly built lab while working on a new invention, as he had in his own world far too often, until someone, usually Madara, came to drag him back out, make him eat and sleep and generally exist as a human. 

Some days, he found it impossible to believe Madara (his husband) actually loved him, too filled with doubts and self-hatred. (Even then, Madara refused to let Tobirama chase him away, when he tried to make Madara leave him in his own self-destructive ways.)

But those bad days slowly became more and more infrequent, and with each day that he woke up with Madara beside him, warm, bright, and comforting, not shy about loving him, Tobirama became more and more convinced that it wasn't just temporary. 

It wasn't always perfect. But Tobirama was happy, and with Madara by his side, he couldn't regret anything. 

Ending up in this world was the best mistake he had ever made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is just me saying Tobirama deserves to be loved. But also I accidentally spilled a big cup of angst all over it. 
> 
> In the original au this is based on, it was Mito who gave Madara the paperwork, but I remembered that only after I'd written the outline and most of the first chapter and didn't want to change it at that point. So that's why it's Touka here!

**Author's Note:**

> Aaahhh, wow, I can't believe I managed to finish a fic! (There's two parts, yes, but the second part is mostly just an epilogue, and mostly written already.)
> 
> I did not expect a Naruto fic to be the first story I posted, but here we are!


End file.
